Page 6 of Hansel and Gerhardt (The GriMM Tales #3)

Dinner Time!

T he hare had not shut up once, and having staggered hours on and into the dusk, both Hansel and Gerhardt were ready to strangle the animal just to have some peace.

It gave them nothing of interest—no help whatsoever.

Grass was good enough for the hare. Grass and water.

Had they considered eating grass? Every hare he’d ever known was satisfied with grass.

But no, he didn’t know of any other food, or of any other hares, not that he’d tell them if he did.

All he did know was that they were most definitely going to die.

“What’s that now?” Gerhardt asked.

“The last time I saw anything even half your size,” the hare replied, “it got caught in one of the traps, then dragged off. Screamed for days, it did.”

“Traps?” Hansel gasped out, pulling to a stop.

“Oh, yes. That one—the trapper—he especially goes for… What are you?”

“Men,” Hansel returned. “Humans. It goes for humans?”

“It does. Mighty grisly deaths too.”

“Well, what kind of creature is it?” asked Gerhardt. “How do we avoid it?”

“Hmm.” The hare slipped its chin onto Gerhardt’s forearm. “I might tell you, if you let me go.”

With a huff, Gerhardt trod on. “You’re trying to trick us. And it won’t work.”

“What if he’s not?” Hansel asked quietly, eyes sharpening on every log and clump of grass as if they were all unsprung traps in wait.

“Then I’ll be here to pull you out of whatever mess you get yourself into,” Gerhardt returned.

“I’m just warning you,” the hare went on. “You’re going to die, so there’s no need to drag a gentle forest dweller like myself down with you. You should accept your fate, and take it like—”

“Could you please shut up!” Gerhardt wailed.

“Though…” The hare wrinkled its little nose. “There was the red one, earlier…”

Gerhardt kept moving, ignoring the animal as best he could, but Hansel stumbled in his urgency to lean down and talk with it. “The red one?”

“Yes. Passed through some time back. He might have lasted. He looked quick. But I saw the wolf after him, so…”

That made them all stop.

“Wolf?” asked Gerhardt.

“What wolf?” asked Hansel.

A deep, preternatural, hair-spiking, gut-rumbling, existence-shaking, oddly sexy growl crept out of the darkness.

“What the fuck was that?” Hansel whispered.

“Get behind me, Hansel,” Gerhardt hissed.

It was a ridiculous suggestion; Hansel stood head and shoulders above Gerhardt, and at that time, the only weapon Gerhardt had to wield was a glorified pillow.

But the sentiment made Hansel a touch braver.

He took up a long and sharply pointed broken branch, then moved a protective shoulder in front of Gerhardt.

“Well, well,” rasped a disembodied voice, emanating from the treeline. “What have we here?”

They searched the forest—nothing more than a suggestion of trees in the fading light, their willowy greyness almost obscured by the black beyond.

Despite his bravery, Hansel took a step back to feel the reassuring press of Gerhardt against his shoulder blade.

“Who goes there?” Hansel called, surprising himself with the firmness of his voice.

A flicker of light, sharp, then glaringly luminous, danced in the forest dark.

A spark growing bright on approach, then a predatory glow of yellow.

Some dying ray of sunlight caught shining white, and a flash of fang almost stopped both their hearts before the curl of a long and ravenous tongue obscured it from view.

“That wolf,” the hare whispered, burrowing deep into Gerhardt’s arms.

Both men stood speechless, the crack of a twig beneath one enormous paw making them jump as the beast approached.

“Who shall I eat first?” The great snout came into view, and the animal seemed to them both to be smiling.

Its nose twitched as it sniffed the air, and leaning its head back a little, it settled eyes on Gerhardt.

It sighed out, “You do smell good.” Then, with a sharp flash of those killer eyes running down Hansel’s frame, “And he wasn’t lying; you do have nice thighs. ”

Hansel blushed scarlet, head dropping to assess the thighs the creature seemed to covet, while Gerhardt’s gaze followed the look of the beast.

Hansel did have nice thighs. He had damned nice thighs. And Hell would freeze over before Gerhardt would let anyone but himself sink his teeth into those thighs.

Barely registering that last thought, Gerhardt stepped forward. “If you can talk, you can understand me.”

The only answer was a slight tilt of the enormous head, grey fur shimmering in the evening light.

“Then… Then… Please, let us go?”

A deep and deeply mocking laugh filled the forest. “No.”

“We don’t taste good,” said Hansel. “I can guarantee it. In fact, we haven’t eaten in days. We’re no better than skin and bone.”

“I like skin and bone,” the wolf growled.

“Not this skin,” Gerhardt replied. “I’m riddled with disease. And fleas. Lice. Um…”

“Ticks!” Hansel threw out. “We’re covered in ticks. You don’t want to eat us. We’re disgusting.”

“Hey!” the hare protested.

“I’m not leaving without a full belly,” said the wolf, stalking closer, eyes latching onto Hansel so hungrily that a shock of panic took Gerhardt.

“Please stop!” Gerhardt’s heart, pounding in his chest, sank as he realised they had but one chance at survival. “Take this hare.”

Hansel, aghast, looked over at him.

Gerhardt couldn’t have looked him in the eye, even if he’d dared to break his concentration on the beast.

The animal lowered its brow, looking amused. “Why would I want a tiny ball of fur when I can enjoy all this tasty, fresh, torrid manhood?”

“Torrid?” Hansel whispered.

“Because it’s magical,” Gerhardt tried. “It’s a magical hare, and I think it will be more satisfying than we ever would be.”

“Don’t,” Hansel begged, but he knew how stupid he was being. What choice did they have?

“If you go for me,” said Gerhardt, eyes on the wolf, “or if you go for him, I’ll drop it, and it will be gone, and you’ll never know how good this magical hare would have tasted.

And look.” Hands shaking, he grasped the animal at the midline and lifted it.

“Look how big it is? Is that the biggest hare you’ve ever seen? ”

The pink tongue came out, sliding over the sharp teeth.

“I thought we were friends,” the hare whimpered.

“No, you didn’t,” said Gerhardt. “Or you would have told me where the traps were.”

With that, he flung the hare away. But not towards the wolf. He threw it towards a thicket, and he screamed, “Run for your life, little hare!” He grasped Hansel’s hand and dragged him, horrified and stunned, back into the benighted forest.